My introduction to the wildlife of East Africa was a kiss from a giraffe. No, this isn’t a metaphor. We’re talking about a real wet lip-smacker here, a “come here big boy and let me give you a taste of my long black tongue” kiss.
But let’s back up a bit.
I arrived in Africa from London at about 8:45pm on a humid Nairobi night. Almost immediately on exiting the plane, I was greeted by a smiling woman from the safari company that had organized my tour, and whisked through Immigration to the baggage claim area, where she introduced me to two fellow safari-mates who just happened to be on the same flight. Jennifer and Benjie, exuberant thirty-somethings who, she explained, were celebrating their new marriage with a safari honeymoon. Ah, romance! We gathered up our green duffle bags and before long were rolling through the night toward the Norfolk Hotel, a grand colonial-era establishment on the outskirts of the city, where I tumbled into a deep sleep.
Early the next morning we met the fourth and final member of our party—Jill, a lively Southern Californian—and then gathered with Mrs. Pinto, who with her husband started and still manages the safari company; Duncan, the director of their safari programs; and our safari leader, Lewela. Pointing to a large map, Lewela presented an overview of our itinerary. We would spend the first day touring Nairobi and the surrounding area, then fly south the following day to Amboseli, where we would spend two days; in successive two-day stays, we would visit the Mt. Kenya Safari Club; Maasai Mara National Reserve; Serengeti National Park in Tanzania; and finally Ngorongoro Crater before returning to Nairobi.
Duncan then introduced a tall, thin man splendidly attired in bright red traditional Maasai garb, who told us in a soft voice about the history and culture of his people, and said that as part of our stay in Maasai Mara, we would be able to visit a Maasai village; he said the villagers welcomed this opportunity to teach us about their traditional ways of life.
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